


What Dreams May Come

by MrsHamill



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-13
Updated: 2005-09-13
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:29:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6038062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is sent to a strange planet to participate in a stranger ritual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Dreams May Come

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you compare Ursula K. LeGuin to C.S. Lewis. No, really. Add to that a liberal dose of Rick Berman as well. You _don't_ want to live in my head! Mucho thanks to Hilary who let me steal from her, who thought it was cool, and who said it wasn't like her own fic, and to Fox for beta'ing even with a headache.

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come  
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil ...  
  
     --William Shakespeare, _Hamlet_  
  
What dreams may come  
     in Death's other kingdom?  
  
     -- Gary Lehmann  
  


* * *

  
Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi stood before the Jedi Council. His face was composed, his hands were tucked into the generous sleeves of his robe, and his eyes were focused on the floor before his feet. His voice, when he spoke, was calm and serene. "Respectfully, I must decline this mission, Masters," he said. "As you are all aware, I have a padawan under my care."  
  
"Aware of this, yes, we are," Yoda, senior member of the Council, said. His voice was also calm and serene. "Decline, you cannot. Go, you will."  
  
Council member Mace Windu frowned at Yoda, sitting next to him, then frowned -- in a slightly different way -- at Kenobi. "Having a padawan does not remove you from the mission rotation, Knight Kenobi," he said slowly. He frowned again at Yoda. "Anakin --"  
  
Yoda cut him off. "Stay with me, your padawan may," Yoda said. "Train with the initiates, he will. Much training has he to make up for. Continue this while you are gone, he can."  
  
While Yoda's eyes had been steady and unblinking on Kenobi, Obi-Wan's gaze had not lifted from the floor. His voice, however, remained calm and inflectionless as he said, "Anakin has a difficult time training in a group, my Master. I would prefer ..."  
  
"Preference or not, this mission yours is," Yoda interrupted again. Council member Ki Mundi traded puzzled glances with Windu, as did members Depa Billaba and Adi Gallia. "Important this mission is. Your duty, this is. Seen it, I have. Wills it, the Force does."  
  
That brought Kenobi's eyes up and put a small line between his eyebrows. He stared at Yoda, who stared right back. Neither of them spoke.  
  
Mace Windu cleared his throat. "Obi-Wan, this is not a difficult or a dangerous mission," he said. Neither Yoda nor Kenobi looked at him. "And it is an honor to be chosen, as it only comes up once a decade. It's a long mission, yes, but it's hardly onerous."  
  
"'Hardly onerous?'" Kenobi repeated, still looking at Yoda. "I must share my dreams with an entire planet, who will judge them -- and me," he said, his voice edging on harsh. "And _my_ dreams are not exactly the stuff of pleasant memories, Masters. I would sooner spend a rotation searching for non-existent Force adepts on Hoth."  
  
"Irrelevant, your wishes are," Yoda said firmly. "Chosen we have. Go you will. This evening you will leave. Dismissed you are, to your quarters, to pack."  
  
Kenobi's jaw clenched under his nascent beard, and his eyes glittered with anger. Several Council members were staring between him and Yoda, who was also frowning, and some were shaking their heads. Yoda ignored them all, focusing his considerable attention on Kenobi alone.  
  
"There's a corvette on pad 12B," Windu said with a sigh, slumping back in his chair. "It is keyed to your voiceprint and ready to go. May the Force be with you."  
  
After a few moments of silence, Kenobi bowed, a short, jerky thing, and turned to leave. Not a word was spoken until the big doors of the council chamber slid silently shut; then Mace Windu turned toward Yoda. "I do not like this," he said, his voice low and firm.  
  
"Beside the point, that is," Yoda replied, his ears drooping. "Requested he has been. Go he shall."  
  
"I have a terrible feeling about the situation," Depa Billaba said softly. Mace's eyes met hers eyes across the room and he shook his head slowly.  
  


* * *

  
In his quarters, Obi-Wan packed with alarming efficiency, his motions curt and precise. His Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, watched from his nest in the middle of Kenobi's big bed -- a bed that had once belonged to Qui-Gon Jinn. "How long will you be gone?" Anakin asked softly, fidgeting with the hem of his stola.  
  
"I don't know, precisely, Anakin," Obi-Wan replied, closing one section of his bag and moving to the 'fresher. "It takes some time to get there and return, and I'll have to -- to participate in a specific rite with the people of the planet."  
  
"Why can't I go with you?" the boy asked. His eyes were large and liquid, and his chin looked as though it might quiver at any moment.  
  
"It's not allowed," Obi-Wan replied, returning from the 'fresher. He shoved some personal items into another compartment of his bag and closed it. "This is -- " he took a deep breath and visibly forced himself to calm. "It is an honor for me to be chosen," he explained. He sat on the edge of the bed and took Anakin's hand. "Once a decade, a Jedi Knight is chosen to go to Hadricus to renew the treaty the Jedi have with the people of the planet."  
  
Anakin frowned. "The treaty the Jedi have?" He had been taking classes in governmental hierarchy and was beginning to understand it.  
  
"Yes, the treaty is with the Jedi only," Obi-Wan said, pausing and frowning for a moment before continuing. "No one goes to Hadricus without specific invitation, Ani. The planet is not part of the Republic, and they maintain a territorial space of two cubic parsecs around their system. No one violates that space -- it cannot be done without severe consequences."  
  
"Like what?" Anakin, the ever-curious, asked.  
  
Obi-Wan studied him seriously for a moment before speaking. "There have been reports of ships attempting to invade Hadricus," he said. "Those ships either vanished without a trace, or were discovered years later, crewed only by madmen."  
  
Anakin's eyes grew impossibly bigger as he digested this information. "Do you _have_ to go, Master Obi-Wan, sir?" he asked softly.  
  
"I'll be all right, Ani," Obi-Wan assured him, ruffling his hair. "I've been invited. For millennia, Jedi Knights have been going to Hadricus to renew the treaty and participate in the Dreaming. They've all returned in due time. I will too."  
  
"What's the dreaming?" Anakin asked, apparently desperate to delay his Master's departure as long as he could.  
  
"The Dreaming," Obi-Wan said, "is the rite I'll be participating in. I am -- required to dream with them and, well, we'll share dreams."  
  
"But--!" Anakin caught himself before blurting out more words, and Obi-Wan looked at him askance, silently indicating he should continue. "But your dreams aren't very good right now, sir," Anakin said, ending in a whisper, his face reddening.  
  
Obi-Wan swallowed and squeezed Anakin's shoulder comfortingly. "Oh, Ani. I'm sorry. I didn't realize my -- my problem with my dreams was bleeding through my sleeping shields. I'll work on that, I promise."  
  
"It's all right," Anakin said softly, looking up at Obi-Wan earnestly. "I don't mind that much. I have trouble sleeping sometimes too."  
  
"I know you do," Obi-Wan replied, his voice equally soft. "We'll work on both problems when I come back. How does that sound?"  
  
"O--okay," Anakin said with a weak smile. He looked like he wanted to say more in that vein, but refrained. Instead, he asked, "Where will I stay while you're -- while you're gone?"  
  
"Master Yoda will be looking after you," Obi-Wan said. He stood and slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "Would you like to come with me to the pad and see the ship I'll be taking? You've got time before your next class, I believe."  
  
"That'd be wizard," Anakin said, sliding off the bed and following Obi-Wan.  
  


* * *

  
It took thirty-seven days to get to Hadricus.  
  
The diplomatic corvette assigned to Obi-Wan was small, since it was only outfitted for one person. Within a week, Obi-Wan was reduced to doing isometric exercises and katas that had barely any movement, just to work up a sweat.  
  
The mission specs were depressingly vague. Go to Hadricus; land at this assigned spot; be met by a delegation from the elders; participate in the rite of the Dreaming; return -- nothing to tell him what the rite entailed. Rumors he'd heard from other Jedi over the years told him precious little either -- that the assigned Jedi Knight would share dreams with the planetary populace and be judged by his or her or its dreaming. If such was the case, then Obi-Wan was not a good representative of the Jedi. His dreams for the past year had been something to avoid, not to share. Waking in a cold sweat, his heart pounding, night after night after night ... he was beginning to despair of ever having a normal night's sleep, one where he wouldn't have Qui-Gon die in his arms again and again and again.  
  
By the end of the trip, Obi-Wan was spending most of his time curled up in the pilot's chair, watching the stars streak by. Meditation felt something like sleep, and meditation rarely brought dreams his way. So he meditated on the empty stars as he waited numbly for his ship to drop out of hyperspace.  
  


* * *

  
Hadricus was a lovely planet. It was green and blue and didn't appear to have any large cities. The ship's pre-set navicomp put him down in a field of tall, green grass dotted with tiny blue flowers, near what looked to be a small village. When he lowered the access ramp and left his ship, his bag once again over his shoulder, he found himself met by three curious-looking humanoids.  
  
The people of Hadricus were short, apparently, if the delegation was any indication. They were all a few inches shorter than Obi-Wan and all of them had large, slanted eyes and pointed ears. After that, the similarities ended: two of the beings were covered in short, sleek fur -- one golden and one gray -- and the third was nearly as hairless as Mace Windu. They were wearing long, loose robes which hid any other feature, but Obi-Wan had the impression there were tails hidden beneath the folds.  
  
Obi-Wan bowed deeply to the trio, but they didn't move to acknowledge his presence, other than a slight cocking of the middle one's head as they examined him. Centering himself within the Force, Obi-Wan resigned himself to wait before them for as long as it took.  
  
After a few moments, the one on the right spoke. Its command of Basic was flawless, but it imbued the words with a lovely, musical accent. "Welcome, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi," it said. "Please follow us to your quarters." As one, the three turned and walked toward the village a short distance away. Blinking, Obi-Wan stepped right along, catching up with them easily.  
  
The village was almost primitive-looking -- small houses along streets that were paved with worn stone. There were no transportation vehicles in evidence, either for personnel or goods. Everyone was on foot. All were dressed the same way as his escort, and all were the same -- and as different -- as the trio who led him.  
  
But here and there was evidence that there was more to this culture than it seemed. Some buildings were equipped with doors that opened silently and automatically at the approach of a person. He saw one Hadrican standing on a hover disk, repairing high-up damage to a wall, and the Force told him that there were many more people beneath his feet, leading him to believe that the important parts of the Hadricus were underground.  
  
Near the center of the village, his escort came to a stop outside a small building, one that was very similar to others they had passed. However, the door to this one was taller than most others he had seen, and he noted that the roof also seemed a bit higher. "This will be your home while you are here, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi," one of the three -- not the original one who had spoken -- said. "It has been prepared for you. You will find it very comfortable."  
  
"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, frowning in puzzlement. He pushed the door open and walked inside the building to find a well-appointed apartment divided into two sections. The first section contained a small sitting area and kitchenette, while the second section boasted both a bathing area and a bedroom. All looked to be sized very large by Hadrican standards, or just a bit large for Obi-Wan. He took in the interior with one glance and turned back to his hosts. "This looks -- very nice," he said, his puzzlement showing in his words. "The information I was provided was rather ... vague ... what is it I should be doing at this time?"  
  
They glanced between themselves; then the gray one spoke. "There is nothing for you _to_ do, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi," it said gently. "There is food here for you to eat, and drink for you as well. If there is something you require that has not been provided you, please feel free to order it on the dataset." The being indicated a small but familiar-looking device tucked away in an alcove of the sitting area.  
  
Taking a deep breath and attempting to free his frustration to the Force, Obi-Wan nodded and smiled tightly at his hosts. "Thank you," he said, bowing again. "Can you tell me -- when does the rite of the Dreaming begin?"  
  
Even though their facial expressions didn't change, Obi-Wan felt they were smiling at him. "It has already begun," the gray one said softly, before they turned and walked out of the house, closing the door behind them.  
  


* * *

  
The kitchenette was well-stocked with food, and Obi-Wan availed himself of that almost immediately, relishing edibles that were fresh rather than freeze-dried or otherwise preserved. He resolutely put from his mind the last words of his escort while he ate and explored his temporary home.  
  
The 'fresher was every bit as lavish as the one he had left behind on Coruscant, right down to being equipped with the same type of soap and shampoo he used. The bedroom was comfortable and the bed large and soft -- but there were no windows ... anywhere in the house. He refrained from testing the door, lest he find it locked from the outside.  
  
After his meal, he cleared a medium-sized space between the kitchenette and the sitting area and exercised, enjoying much more freedom of movement than he had on-board ship. The Force came readily to his call -- even though he had to release his trepidations to it before he could center himself properly.  
  
Because there were no windows, he had no idea what the local time was. He kept himself as busy as he could -- unpacking and settling his things around the house and puttering -- trying to stay awake. However, before too long, he found himself relaxing on the sofa in the sitting room, bereft of anything else to do. The dataset -- which he had investigated early on -- only contained an ordering program for items he might need. He managed to keep from entering 'good dreams' only through a sense of duty and honor.  
  
He should have brought books, he thought. Perhaps a few good books would have kept him from sleeping and, perchance, dreaming. He was contemplating ordering books through the dataset when there was a knock on the door.  
  
"Come in," he called, standing and waiting. The door remained shut, and he frowned, puzzled.  
  
The knock was repeated, stronger and louder. He called out "Please, come in," again, then strode to the door and flung it open.  
  


* * *

  
"We'll handle this," Qui-Gon said, pushing the Queen's Guards aside as he strode toward the black-robed figure.  
  
"We'll take the long way around," Queen Amidala said, gathering her entourage and heading off in a different direction.  
  
Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon and his surroundings, aghast. How had he gotten here? It must be just another one of his nightly dreams, but starting earlier than usual ... "No!" he shouted, grabbing Qui-Gon's arm just as his Master shed his robe. "Stop, Master -- stop!"  
  
Qui-Gon turned and looked at Obi-Wan, his eyes puzzled. "What's wrong, Obi-Wan?" he asked. His voice was mild, his demeanor not that of a man about to face an enemy.  
  
Glancing up, Obi-Wan noticed they were on a balcony of the Temple, overlooking Coruscant. "What?"  
  
"You have been a good apprentice, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, clasping his shoulder. "Though you still have much to learn of the living Force."  
  
"How can you say that?" Obi-Wan demanded, confused and frightened by the change in scenery. "You just pushed me aside! How could you do that one moment and then tell me, in the next, that I have much to learn?"  
  
Qui-Gon's face maintained its composure. "I have tried to be a good master to you, Obi-Wan. But I cannot ... I do not ..." His eyes were kind and despairing as his large hand cupped Obi-Wan's chin. "I'm sorry, Padawan, so sorry. But I don't love you like that."  
  
" _No_!" Obi-Wan screamed, grabbing his head with both hands and falling to his knees.  
  
"You must live in the moment, Padawan," Qui-Gon's mildly reproving voice told him. "Be mindful of the future, but do not let it control you."  
  
"I do!" Obi-Wan raged helplessly from his position, huddled on the floor. "I _do_ live in the moment."  
  
"Yes, you do," Yoda said. Obi-Wan's head jerked up and he saw the diminutive Master standing before him. "But live in _this_ moment you also do," he said, and suddenly Obi-Wan's arms were full of his dying Master.  
  
"Oh, no, no -- not again," Obi-Wan sobbed, seeing the ragged, torn hole in the broad chest.  
  
"Promise me," Qui-Gon rasped out. "Promise me you'll train the boy, Obi-Wan," he gasped.  
  
"No!" Obi-Wan shouted. "I won't! I won't train him, damn you!" He squeezed Qui-Gon's shoulders in a punishing grip. "You have to live if you want him trained, Qui-Gon Jinn! Do you hear me? You have to _live_!"  
  
Qui-Gon reached out his hand and brushed Obi-Wan's cheek tenderly. His face showed amazement at the tears he found there, and he looked at his hand in wonder for a moment before collapsing and dying in Obi-Wan's arms -- again.  
  
"I can't do this," Obi-Wan moaned. "I can't. I can't. Why are they making me do this?"  
  
"Making you they are not," Yoda said. Obi-Wan crumpled into a fetal position, moaning. "Makes you, no one does. Control over yourself, only you have. Live in only _one_ moment, you must. Choose."  
  
"No ... No ..." Obi-Wan pressed his hands to his ears. "Please, stop ..." He rolled to his side and was abruptly dumped to the carpeted floor of his bedroom.  
  
Unbending himself and untangling his legs from the sheets of the bed took a few moments; he finally stood, rubbing his bruised elbow and looking around the dim room. How had he gotten himself to bed? The last thing he remembered was a knock on the door and then ...  
  
Oh, shit. Dreams. He had been dreaming again, like they wanted him to do here. He sank back down on the bed and put his head in his hands.  
  
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon entered the room, backlit from the 'fresher with a towel wrapped around his wet hips. "I heard a thump. Are you all right?"  
  
"Master?" Obi-Wan's head snapped up and he looked in amazement at Qui-Gon.  
  
"Did you fall out of bed?" Qui-Gon asked, affectionate amusement coloring his voice. "Perhaps we should request a crib for you." He strode over to the side of the bed and put one damp hand under Obi-Wan's chin, tipping his head back before pressing a swift, loving kiss to Obi-Wan's lips. "You must have been dreaming again," Qui-Gon said softly, stroking Obi-Wan's hair back from his forehead.  
  
"Dreaming," Obi-Wan agreed, dazed.  
  
"Well, that _is_ what we're supposed to be doing here, you know," Qui-Gon said dryly, pulling away and using the towel from his hips to blot himself dry.  
  
Obi-Wan watched the dark silhouette of Qui-Gon standing naked before him and licked his lips. "Another dream," he muttered, as Qui-Gon pulled on a pair of loose shorts.  
  
"You do seem susceptible to them here," Qui-Gon said, misinterpreting his words. He walked to the door and tossed his towel back into the 'fresher, waving the light out as he did so. "I don't know how many you've had since we arrived yesterday."  
  
"Yesterday?" Obi-Wan watched, still dazed, as the shadowy Qui-Gon returned to the bedroom and lay down on the bed. "I got here ... no. I got here this afternoon. I'm still dreaming."  
  
"What? Obi-Wan, what's wrong?" Dark arms reached across the bed to touch him, but Obi-Wan flinched away. "Obi ...! Are you all right?"  
  
"This is another dream, dammit, and I want to wake up!" Obi-Wan jumped off the bed, and Qui-Gon sat up straight.  
  
"Obi-Wan, stop it," he said, turning and waving the bedside lamp on. " _What_ is wrong? I know our life lately has been a bit rough on you, with the--"  
  
"What the ...?" Obi-Wan gaped and pointed to Qui-Gon's chest. There was a large, ragged-edged pink scar just a bit above his heart. "What is _that_?"  
  
Qui-Gon was frowning, and his eyes were concerned as he looked up at Obi-Wan. He glanced down at his chest when Obi-Wan pointed, then looked back up. "You know very well what that is," he said gently. "You healed it. Please tell me what's wrong, Obi? Love?"  
  
"I healed ... I ... no. You died ..." Obi-Wan said, his face twisting.  
  
"That does it -- I think I should call an end to this," Qui-Gon said firmly, sliding out of bed and walking around it to take Obi-Wan in his arms. "I don't care what censure we get. They're asking too much. You're shaking."  
  
Obi-Wan _was_ shaking. This had to be a dream, had to be, yet here was Qui-Gon, with a scar that corresponded to the wound that killed him ... or did it? Maybe that was the dream, and this is the reality?  
  
"No ... no ... this is the dream," Obi-Wan murmured, pressing his face into Qui-Gon's chest. It felt so _real_ ...  
  
"Obi-love. Talk to me. What did you dream?" Qui-Gon rubbed his back soothingly. "We can just get dressed and leave, you know. We don't have to stay for the whole rite and we shouldn't, if you're having such terrible reactions."  
  
Obi-Wan swallowed heavily and pulled back so that he could look at Qui-Gon's face. "This is real."  
  
"Yes, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon responded, touching Obi-Wan's face gently. "This is real. Come and sit down. Tell me what you dreamed. We'll have to discuss it anyway with the elders tomorrow."  
  
"We will?" Obi-Wan let Qui-Gon settle him on the edge of the bed. "Why? I don't ..."  
  
"You don't remember?" Qui-Gon took his hand gently. "You don't remember talking this over with the elders yesterday when we arrived?" Obi-Wan shook his head mutely. "Obi ... I'm ..." Qui-Gon bit his lip and frowned. "Tell me what you dreamed."  
  
"I didn't dream it," Obi-Wan said, but his voice, even to him, didn't sound too convincing. "You died. On Naboo. In my arms ... and your last words were about Anakin."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Obi-Wan's heart began to pound and he jerked away from Qui-Gon. "No." He _knew_ Anakin existed. He was his damned Padawan! "This is the dream. You died when that -- that _thing_ ran you through. And as you died, you made me promise to train your blasted 'chosen one' instead of saying goodbye. And I have done so. I have been a good master to Anakin. I will not abandon him, the way you abandoned me."  
  
Qui-Gon was gaping at him, his deep blue eyes amazed and hurt. "Obi-Wan ... I ..." He finally closed his mouth, but the look of pain and puzzlement didn't leave his face. "We're leaving. Let me notify the elders, then we're getting back on board our ship and going back to the Temple. I'm not going to sit here and watch my lifemate fracture before my eyes -- treaty and Council be damned."  
  
Obi-Wan swallowed nervously -- surely, the dream would end now? He trailed behind the beautiful figment of his imagination while Qui-Gon stalked into the sitting room and sat at the dataset. Shortly, one of the furred beings who had escorted Obi-Wan to the house -- earlier that day? yesterday? -- appeared on the dataset's screen. "Oael-Ta," Qui-Gon said, bowing with his head only, "I'm afraid we're going to have to leave now. Obi-Wan is not well. I'm sorry that we'll not be here ..."  
  
"Leaving is forbidden," the being interrupted serenely. "The Dreaming is still underway."  
  
"I realize that," Qui-Gon said, and with a start, Obi-Wan remembered that tone of voice, that gentle, overly-patient "don't fuck with me" voice. Despite himself, he began to smile. "However, my lifemate has become ill, somehow. Surely, the ritual was not meant to continue even through a life-threatening illness?"  
  
Life-threatening? Obi-Wan frowned at Qui-Gon -- at the figment that was Qui-Gon. It was just a dream, wasn't it?  
  
"Please ask Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi to step forward," the being said, and Qui-Gon turned. His eyes were still troubled, but his expression was gentle as he held out his hand to Obi-Wan.  
  
Still unsure, with the makings of a truly spectacular headache brewing behind his eyes, Obi-Wan approached the dataset. He bowed slightly when he came within scanning range, but didn't speak. "Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi," the being said softly. "A great Dreamer are you. Live in many moments you do." If it wasn't for the fact that this creature's voice was soft and mellifluous, Obi-Wan might have called it kin to Yoda. "You must decide what moments to stay in. Many moments have you to chose from, and many are the number that will tempt you. Stay here, you will, until the time of the Dreaming is done."  
  
The dataset winked out and Qui-Gon cursed quietly, slamming his fist into his hand. "I don't give a damn what they say. We're leaving." He turned to Obi-Wan and gently gathered him into strong arms. "I won't let you hurt any more, Obi-love. And here I thought this would be a break for us -- it's been hard enough on us trying to track down the Sith Master; the council should never have assigned us this mission."  
  
"What?" Obi-Wan's head was doing a very good imitation of a severe ion storm. "I don't ... oh, gods, my head hurts ..."  
  
Suddenly weak-kneed, Obi-Wan clutched at his figment and closed his eyes in pain. Qui-Gon, or whatever it was, held him up and quite abruptly lifted him, carrying him back into the bedroom. Obi-Wan was tenderly laid out on the bed, his head placed on a pillow and a blanket spread over him. "Obi? Love, let me get you some tea, and something for your head," Qui-Gon murmured, stroking Obi-Wan's hair gently back from his forehead. "We'll leave as soon as you're strong enough."  
  
"No, please," Obi-Wan forced his eyes open. If this was a dream, then dammit, he should enjoy it, not suffer through it or try to cut it short. He was with Qui-Gon again, and they were lifemates, something he had never, not even in his wildest flights of imagination, believed could happen. "Don't go, don't go again. Missed you so much, Master. So, so much."  
  
Qui-Gon's face twisted in anguish. "I'm right here, love, I've always been right here." Qui-Gon ghosted kisses along Obi-Wan's face, down his cheek and to his mouth, while his strong fingers massaged Obi-Wan's temples and hairline. "I'll never leave you, never while I live."  
  
"But you did," Obi-Wan murmured, relishing the kisses and the massage. "You left me alone. Missed you, so much."  
  
"Oh, my poor Obi," Qui-Gon said, carefully hoisting himself on the bed next to Obi-Wan. "I would never leave you, love. Never. You brought me back ... don't you remember? You gave of yourself and initiated the bond so I would live. My wonderfully brave, foolish Padawan Knight ... my savior, my lover." Qui-Gon continued the gentle massage, letting his fingers smooth away wrinkles of pain all over Obi-Wan's face, and gradually migrating down to his shoulders.  
  
After a moment, Obi-Wan shifted slightly to his side, so he could press his full body against Qui-Gon and his face into Qui-Gon's chest. "This is a wonderful dream," he said muzzily, paying no attention at all to Qui-Gon's gentle groan of anguish. "I wish it could always be like this," he added, but he couldn't tell if it was in his head or aloud. Pressed against his figment Master, Obi-Wan fell into a deep sleep.  
  
And when he woke, he was on the sofa in the sitting room, with a crick in his neck from sitting up so long.  
  


* * *

  
"It felt so _real_ ," Obi-Wan said into the journal he had thankfully remembered to pack. "I could feel him, smell him -- that wonderful, spicy aroma he always carried about him -- and his reactions made such sense. But it couldn't have been real. That must have been the dream."  
  
It was definitely morning. Whether it was the _next_ morning after his landing, Obi-Wan wasn't so certain. After bathing and eating, he had, with some trepidation, tried the front door. To his relief, it opened easily and he was able to leave the house. A bright green light to his left drew his attention and it turned out to be a small, lovely park which appeared to be situated in the village's center. There weren't many others about -- from the sun and the _feel_ of the day, it was still very early. Obi-Wan had gathered his journal and a few pieces of fruit and stretched out on the green sward as the sun rose to warm him.  
  
Determined not to fall asleep again -- perhaps never, if he could avoid it -- Obi-Wan had begun cataloging what had happened to him the previous day in his journal. He described his arrival, the house he was living in and the horrible mish-mash of nightmares that led to his strange dreaming vision of his healed Master. He tried to stay objective, tried to keep his roiling emotions out of his report -- tried, anyway.  
  
By the time he had finished his descriptions, he noticed several other people had joined him in the park. They were facing the rising sun, which had just topped the buildings, and were performing some kind of slow, posing exercise, in unison. It reminded Obi-Wan of the eighth form, called the Open Hand, since all the katas within it were to be done without any type of hand-held weapon. After a moment of silently watching them, he stood and joined in, his own movements not that dissimilar to theirs.  
  
Dropping into a light meditation as he moved, he let his thoughts drift. He was the tallest in the park at the moment, something that wasn't usual for him and which made him feel slightly odd. He released that to the Force, shrugging. It was a slight thing that really didn't affect him. After a moment, he found himself wondering why he had seen no children. As if his thought had conjured them, suddenly a small group of youngsters came pelting around the corner into the park, chased by an older -- but still obviously not adult -- person, who was growling comically. The group dispersed among the exercisers, shrieking joyfully as they were chased, bringing laughter to those who watched. Obi-Wan noticed that his initial assumption was correct -- the children were not dressed in the ubiquitous caftans he had seen all the adults wearing, and their shorter, tighter clothing revealed their long, slender tails.  
  
Obi-Wan finished up with the seventh kata in the form and simply stood, soaking in the sun and the sounds of glee that were all around him. He almost felt as though he were back in the Temple, in one of the gardens surrounded by initiates, Padawans and Masters, and he wrapped that peaceful feeling around himself like his cloak.  
  
He felt the presence next to him before he opened his eyes to see the gray-furred creature who had been on his greeting committee the day before. Or whenever it actually was that he had arrived. Obi-Wan swallowed and smiled, bowing slightly. "Good day to you, uh," he blinked. "I'm sorry, I--I don't know what to call you ..."  
  
"My name you know, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi," it replied. Once again, its voice was calm and serene and Yoda-ish.  
  
Obi-Wan was about to protest, when a memory came to him. "Oael-Ta?" he asked, hesitantly. Where did that name ... oh. "But ... you ... you did not tell me," he said, frowning. His head was beginning to throb again.  
  
 _If you dreamed you had a headache, would the pain be real? If you dreamed you had a lover, would his love for you be real?_ "I don't understand. Please ..."  
  
"Walk with me?" Oael-Ta said, indicating Obi-Wan should join him. Sighing, Obi-Wan moved alongside the being -- was it male or female? There was no way of telling -- and they walked along the wide, cobbled streets.  
  
There were more Hadricans about the village as the sun rose. Many of them greeted both Oael-Ta and Obi-Wan by name, which confused the young Knight. "You forget," Oael-Ta said suddenly, "it is the time of the Dreaming. Share, we all do."  
  
Obi-Wan stopped dead. Oael-Ta stopped after another step, then turned to face him. "Is this a dream?" Obi-Wan demanded hoarsely. "I don't understand. Please, help me to understand." He pressed a hand to his throbbing forehead. "Last night ... or whenever it was ... I dreamed ..."  
  
"What is a dream?" Oael-Ta said softly. "If dreamed I did that headache I had, real would the pain be? One night, dreamed I did of a tall man who loved a Jedi Knight. Is this man real? Is his love for the Jedi Knight real? What is _real_?"  
  
The pain was beginning to make Obi-Wan's eyesight swim and his stomach to churn. He closed his eyes and tried to call the Force to him, tried to ease his distress. The Force answered his call sluggishly, as though he were wrapped in a Force-dampening fabric, but gradually he was able to control the pain and his own confusion. When he opened his eyes, Oael-Ta was nowhere in sight and Obi-Wan felt absurdly like weeping. Releasing that impulse to the Force as well, he took a deep breath, centered himself, and continued walking.  
  
Around the next corner he heard a great murmuring and discovered an open-air market. The stalls were small and crowded and each had a different item for sale -- food, clothing, animals, baskets, small electronics, flowers, fish, pottery and even furniture. Small pieces, anyway. Clinging to his center tenaciously, Obi-Wan strolled among the stalls, exchanging nods with the people he met. Oddly enough, everyone he met spoke Basic, although it was fairly apparent that it wasn't their native tongue. Obi-Wan tried to puzzle that out as he strolled.  
  
It further appeared that Hadricans could not or would not smile, but happiness or pleasure was indicated by their eyes. Watching the people in the market, Obi-Wan noticed that a pleased creature's eyes would crinkle up and their ears would twitch slightly. The eyes of the children who he saw running between and among the stalls, yelling merrily, were scrunched tightly, but their mouths were not turned up in a smile. He figured it was due to the species' relationship to felines, who would take baring the fangs as a sign of aggression rather than good will.  
  
A marvelous smell drew him to a stall selling baked goods. He lingered over the unfamiliar items, breathing in the somehow comforting aroma, not knowing how to purchase even if he'd had the inclination. A small figure crashed into his legs suddenly, causing him to stagger. It was a small Hadrican child, who had wrapped its arms around Obi-Wan's legs and who now crinkled up at him joyously. Its tail was thrashing furiously, making Obi-Wan want to smile.  
  
"Mei-Yor," the adult behind the stall said, not in censure, but rather in some form of overpowering happiness and wonder. "Thank you, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. Mei-Yor is my life," it said.  
  
Obi-Wan decided she was female from the feel of her aura but he blinked at what she said. "You are quite welcome, but ... I don't understand why?" Absently, Obi-Wan reached down and stroked the soft, furry head of the child, who nearly reached his hip in height.  
  
The adult came around the stall and disentangled the child from Obi-Wan's leg, then hoisted it up into her arms, pressing her face to the child's. "I am grateful for Mei-Yor," she said simply. Reaching out, she picked up a small container holding round pastry balls. "These are for you," she said, holding the child Mei-Yor tightly. "A small way of thanking the Dreamer."  
  
Obi-Wan took the proffered food -- which was warm and smelled wonderful -- and bowed perfunctorily. None of this made any sense. He was unable to ask her any more, however, as several natives stepped up to her stall, apparently meaning to make purchases. Obi-Wan moved away, seeking a place to sit, which appeared before him as the crowd shifted -- a small bench. He sat, put one of the pastries into his mouth, and immediately closed his eyes in bliss. They were delicious, stuffed with a sweet tasting meat and spices that were indescribable but caressed his taste buds like a lover.  
  
"They are good, aren't they?" a familiar, distinctive voice asked, and not opening his eyes, Obi-Wan nodded. "I have no idea what's in them, but they could be patented as an aphrodisiac on several worlds."  
  
"Not unlike your voice, Master," Obi-Wan murmured in response. He sighed. "I can't understand how I could be dreaming, and yet walking around like this."  
  
"You're sitting down, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, a mixture of humor and hurt in his voice.  
  
Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked up at his former Master. "I'm still dreaming," he said, and his voice was resigned. The sun was directly behind Qui-Gon, and even squinting, Obi-Wan couldn't make out any features. Qui-Gon appeared to him as a tall, broad, dark shadow, looming above him. He heard a sound vaguely like heavy breathing.  
  
Then a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye made him turn. He saw a young, tow-headed -- human! -- boy darting away down an alley. Obi-Wan leapt to his feet and pursued, wondering how it was that Anakin could have made it to this planet when he should be safely back on Coruscant ...  
  
It wasn't until he was thoroughly turned around in the twisting, narrow streets of the village -- which suddenly seemed twice the size it had been -- that Obi-Wan remembered he must be dreaming. He slowed his head-long rush, then stopped, trying to remember how to get out of the strange maze of streets. Up ahead of him moved a tall figure, and Obi-Wan hurried forward, expecting it to be Qui-Gon.  
  
The tall man turned -- but it wasn't Qui-Gon, it was a young adult human with short blond hair and a Padawan's braid. He was dressed in black leather Jedi tunics and looked at Obi-Wan with hurt and exasperation.  
  
"I don't care, Master," he said. "I love her. I need her. Why can't you understand that?"  
  
Obi-Wan blinked. "What?" he said, shaking his head. "Who ..."  
  
"I'm going to marry her Master, I've seen it. Please Obi-Wan, can't you give us your blessing?" The young man gave Obi-Wan a look of yearning and pain and suddenly Obi-Wan knew.  
  
"Anakin?"  
  
"Obi-Wan! Get down!" Qui-Gon shouted from somewhere behind them, and when Obi-Wan wrenched his gaze away from his suddenly grown Padawan, he saw an ominous figure striding toward them -- tall and black and radiating fury and pain -- wielding a red lightsaber.  
  
Grabbing Anakin by the upper arm, Obi-Wan tugged at him. "Anakin! Move!" he yelled, abruptly furious when his Padawan refused to do so. He reached for his lightsaber, which should have been on his belt -- it wasn't there. Looking down at his belt where his 'saber should be, he found himself dressed in formal whites.  
  
"Over here," a voice said, and Obi-Wan looked up. It was dusk: he was on Coruscant, in one of the formal meditation gardens. "You should not be late to your own recognition ceremony, Knight Kenobi," Bant said, her voice light and teasing. "Your lifemate is already there."  
  
She grabbed his arm and tugged him toward a small group that stood near a stone pedestal, on which a flame was burning. Obi-Wan recognized several Council members, more of his friends, and Qui-Gon, who was also in formal whites and looking concerned. "Here he is," Bant announced, dragging Obi-Wan into the circle. "I found him looking for a way out."  
  
The group chuckled and Qui-Gon draped his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders, squeezing affectionately. "Just grin and bear it, love," he murmured into Obi-Wan's ear.  
  
"Honor we do the slayers of the Sith," Yoda said, from his perch on a high bench. "The sacrifice bring forth," he added, motioning to a figure in the shadows beyond the flame.  
  
From the darkness stepped the young man that Obi-Wan had recognized as his grown Padawan, Anakin. He was crying, silent tears flowing from his eyes, and in his arms he carried the dead body of himself as a child.  
  
" _NO_!" Obi-Wan screamed, trying to run to them.  
  
Qui-Gon held him back, an arm around his chest. "Obi-Wan! Stop!" Qui-Gon said, holding tightly while Obi-Wan struggled.  
  
"I won't! I won't let this happen!" Obi-Wan yelled, twisting to face Qui-Gon. "You pushed me aside for him, but I won't push him aside for you, I won't! He doesn't deserve that!"  
  
" _Think_ Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon demanded, his face contorting. "Think about what you just said!" Suddenly, they were back on Hadricus, in the small park just outside the residence Obi-Wan had been given. Qui-Gon still held him firmly by the shoulders, and gave him a little shake. "Your focus determines your reality, Obi-Wan. Remember that! Feel, don't think!"  
  
"This is all a dream!" Obi-Wan shouted, breaking the hold Qui-Gon had on him and stepping back. "Dreams aren't real, none of this is real!"  
  
Qui-Gon grimaced as if in pain as Obi-Wan moved away from him. "No, Obi-Wan, don't say that, remember what I taught you, please ..."  
  
The sun was westering and the park was getting darker, but the Hadricans who had been exercising were still there, still doing poses, only now they were being joined by others, many of whom Obi-Wan recognized. Master Yoda was there, and Mace Windu, and Anakin even -- though behind him was the tall, young-adult version of him and behind _him_ , in the shadows, was an even taller figure all in ominous black. Obi-Wan saw Queen Amidala; she carried two little bundles and her face was inexpressibly sad. A tall, dark-haired man in the regalia of Alderaan's royal house stood next to her, along with Senator -- now Chancellor -- Palpatine. And, behind Palpatine, another dark robed and shadowy figure hovered.  
  
Behind them all was Qui-Gon, somehow, and Obi-Wan could tell he was trying to get through the crowd, trying to make his way back to Obi-Wan. He was shouting, but Obi-Wan couldn't hear what he was saying over the babble of voices. _Your focus determines your reality,_ he heard deep in his head, which sparked a soundless concussion of pain. Clutching at his temples, he fell to his knees, moaning.  
  
A stinging pain across his cheek and Qui-Gon's harsh, "Obi-Wan! Wake up!" made him open his eyes. He was back in the small residence, tucked into the now-messy bed, with Qui-Gon next to him, looking positively frightened. "I'm sorry, so sorry," Qui-Gon said thickly, "but you wouldn't wake up." He gathered Obi-Wan into his arms and rocked him gently. "You wouldn't wake up ... gods, we need to get off this planet ..."  
  
At least the pain in his head was gone, Obi-Wan realized. But he was still dreaming, obviously, since he was with Qui-Gon. "Still asleep," he mumbled into Qui-Gon's chest. But this time, he let himself hug that big body to himself, and reveled in the scent and feel of his former Master. He wound his arms around Qui-Gon and hugged as tightly as he was being hugged. "Never thought to have you like this," he murmured, gently kissing the silken skin of Qui-Gon's chest.  
  
Qui-Gon didn't reply, but the hitch in his breath spoke volumes to Obi-Wan. He felt Qui-Gon rest his cheek on the top of his head, and the arms holding him tightened fractionally. "I wonder why I keep coming back to this dream?" Obi-Wan said, his mind too tired by recent events to spend much energy on the puzzle.  
  
"Because this is real?" Qui-Gon said, his voice cracking. "Please, love, believe me. It's real. I'm real." With a quick movement, Qui-Gon tugged Obi-Wan up, tipped his head and kissed him hard. Almost immediately gentling the kiss, Qui-Gon let it become sensual and sweet, and, despite his conviction, Obi-Wan felt himself reacting to it. Breaking the kiss with one last lick to Obi-Wan's lips, Qui-Gon whispered, "Would a dream kiss you like that?"  
  
Obi-Wan swallowed. He felt Qui-Gon's half-hard penis nudging his hip and had Qui-Gon's taste lingering in his mouth. He gave Qui-Gon a look he was certain was slightly dazed, and replied, "I--I don't ... I don't know ..." There was a strand of hair that had escaped the band Qui-Gon had tied his hair in, and Obi-Wan tucked it back behind Qui-Gon's ear. "If ... if I had asked you -- before, long before Naboo -- to let us be like this ... would you have said yes?" It was a question that Obi-Wan had asked himself hundreds, if not thousands, of times over the past year, and dream or no dream ... he wanted an answer.  
  
The look Qui-Gon gave him was heart-breaking in its intensity. "I'm not sure, Obi-Wan," he replied, after taking a deep breath. "I know I don't regret our bond forming. I know I've loved you for a long, long time -- and not just as a Master, either." He pulled Obi-Wan tightly against his chest again. "I also know that I regret all the time we lost when we could have been together. And I fully intend to make that time up to you -- somehow."  
  
"I was afraid to ask you," Obi-Wan whispered. "I was certain you'd gently turn me down and I'd be humiliated."  
  
"That would never have happened," Qui-Gon swore. "I'm not sure what I would have said, but I know -- I'd never intentionally hurt you. Not ever."  
  
"But you did, though, when you pushed me aside for Anakin." Obi-Wan pulled back gently and looked at Qui-Gon. "I've been thinking about it over the past year -- I thought about it a lot, actually -- and I think I understand _why_ you did, but it still hurt. I don't ..." Obi-Wan studiously ignored the confusion and pain in Qui-Gon's eyes and kept talking. "He's a good boy, Mas -- Qui-Gon. I now see in him what you saw in him, I think. He's been hurt too, and I don't want to hurt him any more -- I don't want ..." Obi-Wan slowed and his brow furrowed in thought. "I don't want _him_ to hurt any more."  
  
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon murmured, "Your focus determines your reality. Focus, my love. Focus."  
  
Sudden pain exploded behind Obi-Wan's eyes as Qui-Gon said that, and he cried out in agony. "Don't let me go!" he begged, and felt Qui-Gon's arms tighten around him.  
  
"Never," Qui-Gon vowed as light bloomed around them.  
  


* * *

  
"Have you had any communication with Hadricus?" Mace Windu asked, as he entered the small meditation chamber where Yoda sat. "It's been over three months now."  
  
"Successful, the mission has been," Yoda said, and Mace raised his eyebrows. "The Dreamer they have found. The one waited for, for so long, is now there."  
  
Mace's eyes widened. "Then ..."  
  
"Determines reality, the dreamer's focus does," Yoda said, closing his eyes and resting his claws on his crossed knees. "Children, the Hadricans now have. Averted, disaster will be. Stronger, the Force already is."  
  
Closing his own eyes, Mace centered himself. A smile spread across his face as he tapped the Force. "It is," he whispered. After a moment, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes again. "But ... what about Kenobi and his Padawan? What about the Skywalker child?"  
  
Yoda turned his bland gaze on Mace Windu for a moment before he replied.  
  
"Who?" he asked.


End file.
